“All right, Rebecca,” he says finally. “Kneel on the footstool and stretch your body across my legs.” I look up to find that he has placed one of the throw pillows on his lap. I understand that he wants a barrier between my body and his possible erection. Plus the cushion is too soft to provide much friction. Obviously he has planned this carefully. I would not have expected less from him.

I am awkward as I clamber onto the ottoman and spread my body across his lap. The ottoman is the perfect height. When I bend at the hip, my belly rests on the cushion and my ass is in air, just to the right of his body. I rest my chest on the chair to his left, cradling my head in my crossed arms. I’m not uncomfortable. I feel stable and well-supported.

Usually he warms me up when he’s about to spank me. He will stroke and knead my buttocks, then pinch me hard just as I am starting to relax. More often than not he’ll slip a blunt finger between my cheeks and swirl it around in my pussy. He’ll tell me what a pervert I am, to be so wet at the mere thought of being beaten. I’ll be torn between embarrassment and pride. I know that this is one reason why he wants me.

Tonight, though, the only warm up is more waiting. He doesn’t touch me, though I can feel his eyes like ghostly fingers on my exposed flesh. My cunt feels heavy and swollen, pressed against the cushion. I shift my position the tiniest bit and pleasure sparks from my clit to my nipples and back again in a maddening cycle.

“Be still,” he orders. “No squirming around. No humping the pillow. This is a spanking, pure and simple. You may yell or cry as much as you want. But I don’t want you to move. That will spoil it.”

There’s menace in his voice, and promise. We are about to embark on a new adventure together.

“Do you understand?”

I’m sure he feels me tremble as I nod, but he doesn’t chide me. Instead he brings the flat of his hand down hard on my ass.

“Ow!” I’m startled more than hurt. The sting races like a wildfire from my cheek to my clit. The swollen nub compressed between my thighs is a red hot coal. “Ouch!” Before the echoes die he lands another blow, sharp and precise, on the opposite mound. Brief pain flares before pleasure drowns it.

Smack! Smack! Each slap builds the heat. I barely have time to suck in a breath before he hits me again, his open palm walloping me with all of his considerable strength. He varies his targets, whacking one cheek, then the other, with an occasional fiery blow to the back of my thighs. Otherwise, he gives me no respite, just pummels my ass again and again and again.

Before long I’m yelling each time he connects. My skin feels raw. My whole ass burns. Fire spikes wherever his hand lands, a sudden jump against the background heat. I try my best not to shrink from his slaps, to fulfill my part of the bargain.

Real pain has long since overwhelmed the teasing sting of the first few spanks. Still, I’m turned on by the process, perhaps more by the thought than by the sensations. There’s a buzzing in my pussy, an itch that’s amplified each time he strikes. I arch my back the slightest bit, pressing my pelvis against the disappointingly puffy cushion.

Of course he notices. He reads my body like no one else. “Naughty slut!” he exclaims. Sharp blows rain down on my battered ass. “Be still! Don’t disappoint me.”

Guilt smothers the pain for an instant. I tighten my thighs, struggling to relieve the torment at my center.

“I guess I’ll just have to hit you harder,” he says, and follows through on his promise.

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